


Coming Back

by 1treehill



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1treehill/pseuds/1treehill
Summary: Bill Tench is called to Vacaville when Holden Ford is admitted to the hospital.





	Coming Back

It took Bill the minimum amount of travel time to get to Vacaville once he received the call about Holden. So far, he didn’t know any more than what the nurse told him on the phone— that Holden was in the prison hospital, under observation, after visiting Ed Kemper, and that Bill was listed as his emergency contact. He’d spent the flight and drive times mood swinging from worry to annoyance to nervousness. Nervous about what he couldn’t exactly say. But when the doctor spoke to him, his first sentences to Bill clarified his confusion.

“I don’t know what the FBI think they’re doing with their young agents, but I can’t say I approve. Mr. Ford is suffering from dehydration, exhaustion and seems to not have eaten in quite some time. In other words, he’s experienced a complete physical and psychological collapse. Not what I’m used to seeing in a 29-year-old.”

The doctor barely hid his disgust and wouldn’t meet Bill’s eyes. That’s when Bill realized his edginess was rooted in guilt. He didn’t feel guilty about telling the truth to the OPR, or to Wendy. What he did feel guilty about was leaving Holden with the sense that he had no one to turn to but a psychotic serial killer like Ed Kemper. Why wasn’t Debbie here? Why weren’t his parents notified before Bill? He could understand the doctor’s anger. One look at Holden’s baby face, especially when unconscious, as he was, would make anyone feel protective of him. But the doctor didn’t know what Holden was capable of, against others and especially against himself.

The doctor continued, “I’ve had him heavily sedated to calm him down and let him get some rest. But I’ll bring him up now that you’re here. It will probably do him good to see a friendly face.”

Bill sighed quietly, remembering the last time he and Holden spoke, and wondered how friendly a face his was now to the young agent. Bill and the bespectacled doctor moved closer to Holden’s side and this gave Bill a chance to look closely at the young man. He appeared deceptively peaceful, sleeping, but there were signs of strain on his face. He also looked very tired, dark circles of weariness forming under his closed eyes.

A small frisson of anger coursed through Bill. Didn’t Holden have any kind of support system around him? And Bill thought of his own role in all this. He and Holden were friends, he had to admit, after so many road school trips and weeks spent side by side. But lately, under all the stress of the internal investigation, not to mention the continuing interviews with the sequence, or serial, killers, Holden’s behavior had become outrageously self-aggrandizing and unbearable.

Bill admitted to himself that he kept a distance between himself and his partner mostly for his own protection. He also admitted he didn’t try very hard to see if there was anything underlying this behavior that may have led to the breakdown.

“He’s waking,” the doctor murmured. Bill saw Holden’s eyelids fluttering. Then just the hint of blue peering out. There was a moment of confusion, of Holden trying to figure out where he was, or even maybe who he was. It was a completely vulnerable moment, where there was nothing between Holden’s mind and the world. Bill was filled with an embarrassing wave of fondness for the young man.

Then Holden’s eyes met his and Holden asked, in a slurred voice, “Bill. Why are you here?”

Not the first question Bill expected from Holden. “I’m here because they called me, after you collapsed. Holden, are you all right?”

Holden still looked baffled and more than a little bit afraid. “I’m… fine. Just fine. What’s going on?”

At this, the doctor stepped into Holden’s eye line and said, “Mr. Ford, are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea? And how are you feeling, emotionally?”

Holden stared at the man and then seemed to realize suddenly that he was in a hospital bed, with an IV attached to his arm. He looked a bit wildly around the room and down at his own body, and a monitor beeped signifying an increased heart rate.

“Calm down, please. You’re in a safe place, Mr. Ford,” the doctor said in a low tone.

Bill chimed in, “Holden, everything’s okay. You’re at the California Medical Facility in Vacaville. You collapsed. The doctor here says you’re exhausted and dehydrated, but you’re gonna be okay. We just want to know how you feel.”

At this, Holden seemed to come back to himself. He sighed gustily and then took a deep, slow breath. The monitor quieted down. “I feel, honestly, very tired and sort of confused, Bill,” he said, ignoring the doctor. “Can we go home?”

Bill thought he sounded very much like a young and scared boy and his worry level increased. “You’re not going anywhere right now. You’ve got to get a bit better first. Then we can leave. Right, Doc?” Bill said with some forced cheer.

The doctor looked a bit put out, but agreed, “Yes, Mr. Ford. You’re in need of some real rest, some food and some hydration. We also need to look into what precipitated your nervous collapse.”

At this, Holden simply looked down. Then he raised his eyes to Bill’s and asked quietly, “Kemper?” “He’s back in his cell. You’re safe,” Bill answered. Holden visibly relaxed.

“Well, I’ll send in a nurse to draw some blood, and another doctor will be in later to have a chat with you,” the doctor said.

Bill realized this other doctor was probably a psychiatrist. Looking at Holden’s slightly narrowed eyes he understood that the young agent came to the same conclusion. “I’ll leave you alone now. Mr. Tench, please don’t tire out our patient. Mr. Ford, I’ll be seeing you soon.” The doctor then left the room.

Bill moved a chair closer to the bed. For a few seconds, the chair’s scraping sound superseded any conversation. But when Bill sat down it was replaced by an uncomfortable silence. Bill stared directly at Holden, waiting for him to look at him. Instead Holden leaned back and closed his eyes, looking completely exhausted again.

Bill was about to make a comment when, without opening his eyes, Holden suddenly said, “What day is this?”

Bill told him, “You’ve been here two days. You saw Kemper yesterday.”

Holden finally opened his eyes and turned his head to Bill. “I’m afraid to ask, but do I still have a job?”

“I was in touch briefly with Wendy today, and she says your hospitalization is actually working in our favor with the OPR. They’re putting down your attitude during your hearing to `stress-related misbehavior,’ is what I think they called it. Wendy didn’t try too hard to convince them otherwise. I think we’re going to get lucky here.”

Holden didn’t look relieved. He stared straight ahead, misery etched on every part of his face. Bill felt confused. “Holden, I’m telling you the truth. I believe everything is going to be okay.”

Tears filled Holden’s eyes as he turned to Bill. “I lost everything. Debbie broke up with me. I don’t know why I came to see Kemper. They said he attempted suicide and named me as his medical proxy. But I don’t know why I came. I don’t want to think it was because I had no one left in my life but my favorite serial killer. I don’t want to think I’m that sick and sad.” Holden rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wiping tears away.

Bill reached out a comforting hand to Holden’s arm through the railing of the bed. “Holden, listen to me. If you felt like you had no one to talk to, that’s not all on you. You were acting like an asshole, I’ll be the first to admit it, but I never meant for you to feel that abandoned. You’re my partner, my friend. You should have been able to turn to me if you were feeling that… lost.” Bill refrained from mentioning Debbie, a twist that answered a few questions about the past few days.

“I was so sure I was right about everything. Why was I so sure? So sure of myself. I thought I didn’t need anybody, and when I drove everyone away, sure enough, there was no one left.” It was as if Holden hadn’t even heard Bill. “Maybe I’m more like the monsters we interview than I thought. I want to go home.”

Bill could only reply, “You’re not like Kemper. You should know that after what happened. He acts like your friend, but he’s just good at replicating human emotions.”

“Replicating emotions,” Holden murmured. He kept his eyes averted, but Bill could see silent tears running down his face. He didn’t know what else to say. The odd moment of vulnerability made him uncomfortable. He simultaneously felt like either turning and leaving or hugging Holden.

“Holden, you need to get some rest, and I need to call Wendy. And Nancy too. You know, she’s worried about you.” Holden remained silent. “Okay, I’ll check in with you in a while. You really need to sleep.”

Bill left the room slowly, feeling like he was abandoning the young man again. He turned back at the last second to see Holden leaning back on the pillow and covering his eyes with his right arm.

Once he knew Bill was out of the room, Holden removed his arm from across his eyes and let the tears flow. Soon he was gasping and sobbing.

After a few minutes, a male nurse entered the room, and he attempted to rein in his emotions. He was given an injection into his IV and instantly felt calmer. An anti-anxiety medication, no doubt. Not a tranquilizer this time because he remained fairly alert.

Holden took a deep breath and contemplated the worst week of his life. He couldn’t explain his behavior even to himself. Nor could he defend his actions. What led him to Kemper’s bedside after isolating himself from everybody and everything he cared about mystified him. What did he expect to get from Kemper, and was it something he couldn’t get from his friends and coworkers? The answer was not apparent, but the question itself was almost unbearably disturbing.

He’d not been taking care of himself, that much was obvious. His body felt distant, yet he felt unwell, tired beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate or drank anything or slept through the night. His life had been like this since the Behavioral Science unit coalesced with Wendy’s input and the grant money. After that, all he could think about were the interviews.

He was saving lives though, wasn’t he? His health and well-being could take a backseat to that, right? He got down in the dirt with the pigs, could speak the lingo of the psychotic, but he wasn’t like them, was he?

He couldn’t think anymore, despite the anti-anxiety meds. So he closed his eyes and willed the questions away.

Bill couldn’t help but feel relief when he escaped Holden’s hospital room. Not from guilt but from not knowing how to handle Holden when he wasn’t being an asshole or obsessing over an interview subject. No, there was maybe some guilt there after all.

After a cigarette break outside, he made the call to Wendy, gave her an update, noticing a modicum of concern enter her voice this time, a marked contrast to her earlier annoyance. He felt a flash of self-righteous satisfaction, then sheepishness as he realized his protectiveness was leading to a lack of professionalism.

Bill then returned to Holden’s room, only to find him fast asleep. More meds, he assumed. He realized he hadn’t eaten in about 6 hours, since he had arrived at the hospital, so decided to head off to the cafeteria for some food and to hopefully regain his emotional equilibrium.

Holden woke alone. The plastic chair next to his bed was empty. He wondered if Bill had gone back home. Wouldn’t be surprising.

He decided to do everything he could to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible. Maybe Bill was right and his job could be saved. He would have to concentrate on altering his behavior. He could do that, sure. He’d let his interview subjects get to him despite telling Debbie early on that he wouldn’t let that happen.

Debbie. They were definitely done with, and the pain of loss was a dull throb in his chest. He called her image to mind behind closed eyes, and could only see a bewildered young woman with a disgusted look on her face. Why had he blamed her for the shoes? Why didn’t he just tell her the truth about Brudos?

The ridiculous thing was he had no answers. More unanswerable questions regarding his own behavior. Yes, he would have to change his behavior, no matter what was in his head. It was the least he could do.

Bill returned, much to Holden’s surprise. Bill felt like a heel when it became clear Holden assumed he’d really left.

Bill excused himself from the room once the psychiatrist arrived. Holden answered the obvious questions with intent rather than total honesty. He was truthful when it fit his intentions, but it wasn’t difficult to know what answers would get him released. After all, he hadn’t tried to kill himself. It was just a panic attack, and the doctors already knew he was suffering from exhaustion. As far as Holden was concerned, his problems were beyond the doctors’ comprehension anyway.

After about 10 questions, Holden could see the satisfaction on the psychiatrist’s face.

Bill came back to his chair after the doctor left, and they sat in comfortable silence. Holden was grateful for the absence of meaningful conversation with Bill.

Later his assigned doctor came in, looking rather proud of himself, and announced that everything was looking better, gave Holden a list of self-care tips, a rather paternal scolding and then announced Holden would be released the next day, if he made sure to eat, drink, and sleep enough until then.

Holden released a deep sigh of relief. But a sense of disappointment and worry made its way through his mind, and the sigh became a small shudder.

Bill followed the doctor out into the hall. “Do you really think he’s all right, that he’s okay to leave?” he asked the older man, who then turned confused eyes to the agent.

“I meant every word I said in there. Now, future health is completely dependent on Mr. Ford himself, but the psychiatrist believes this was an anomaly. Perhaps this scare will set Mr. Ford on the way to taking better care of himself. I’m hoping also that the FBI will take this episode as a warning to not overwork their agents.”

Bill had a sudden epiphany that Holden was still the master of manipulation and had played the doctors like a fine-tuned piano. But what could he do about it now? He would keep an eye on Holden himself and be wary of his head games.

The next day, Bill watched Holden carefully as he dressed and signed the discharge papers. He smiled and was perfectly polite to the doctors and nurses, but Bill didn’t quite believe any of it.

He noticed the signs of weariness still apparent on Holden’s face. Dark shadows under his eyes, a lack of ease in his movements and actions, like he was on autopilot.

Holden was nothing but respectful and friendly with Bill, and that may have set off more alarms in Bill’s head than anything else. Bill briefly wondered what sinister plan Holden was forming in that brain of his, before he realized that this robotic behavior might just be Holden’s coping mechanism and settled into a mixture of sympathy and pity.

Bill’s reading of the OPR situation was correct. Holden’s collapse retroactively gave some clarification to his earlier behavior at the hearing, and his punishment was a relative slap on the wrist, a week’s suspension, followed by another interview with OPR.

Greg had admitted to sending the Speck tape to OPR and abruptly quit.

A new protocol was officially put in place regarding the recording and storing of all tapes of interviews, and instructions put in place suggesting the exact language used in the interviews by the agents, complete with a warning should they deviate from Wendy’s general questionnaire too far.

All in all, not nearly as bad as Wendy, Bill and Holden thought might be the outcome.

Holden spent his week away from the office trying to keep as busy as possible. He thought about calling Debbie a few times, but lost his nerve before she had the chance to pick up the phone. He called his parents to reassure them he was okay, something he had done at the hospital as well, just to ensure they wouldn’t try to visit him, though the chances of that were slim anyway.

He cleaned his already neat apartment, remembering to thoroughly wash his drink glasses.

He ran in the morning, ate a healthy breakfast, avoided alcohol. The first three days passed uneventfully, filled with mindless busy work.

The mantra at the back of Holden’s mind all week was, “Don’t think too much. Don’t think too much.”

Sleep was, however, beyond his ability to plan out. Despite the regular routine, despite the exercise and good food and time away from the stress of the office, he could not sleep more than three hours a night. He fell asleep quickly enough, but would wake in a state of unease, sometimes a feeling that was much like a precursor to the panic he experienced after…

And his few dreams were filled with unpleasant sensations of constriction and claustrophobia. Easy to see where those originated from. Not once did Kemper make an appearance in his dreams, much to Holden’s relief.

But nevertheless Holden somehow sensed the killer’s presence in nearly every moment of his life, as if the large man was just beyond his field of vision, waiting for Holden to relax.

It was best after his runs, where he would push himself beyond what he knew was healthy, keep going until he was exhausted, beyond thought.

The rest of the week was spent in a constant state of low-grade anxiety. He thought, I just need to get back to work. He ran faster and longer, and that would work to ease his nerves for a few hours. Then sleep, where he could no longer outrun the walls closing in.

Monday, his return to work, began with the meeting with OPR. Strangely, Holden felt totally at peace as he waited to be called into the conference room. He could control himself, tell them what they needed to hear. His entire existence centered on self-control over the past week.

Holden went in alone and full of self-effacement, admitted he had become arrogant and disrespectful in the face of exhaustion, overwork and a naive sense of overconfidence. The same two men who Holden treated with disdain in the earlier meeting stared at him silently, as if waiting for some sort of punchline revealing Holden’s true feelings. The humility wasn’t hard to convey because Holden no longer felt sure of any of his ideas. Ed Kemper had embraced the confidence right out of him.

Eventually, the men of the OPR grew tired of waiting and seemed to accept Holden’s change of attitude as genuine. They dismissed him after a repeat of the new guidelines for tape archival and interview verbiage.

Holden sighed as he left, somehow dreading returning to the basement office more than he had the OPR grilling.

Bill arrived early to the office, knowing that Holden was returning after his little grilling by the OPR. He was concerned that Wendy might display a little too much of her thus far repressed hostility towards Holden. She hadn’t seen how vulnerable and truly unwell he had been at the hospital, and her last memory of Holden was the young man at his most self-righteous and arrogant.

Holden entered the office practically at a creep. Bill wondered how deeply affected he was by his breakdown. This looked bad.

He watched from his office doorway as Holden took a seat at his desk at the center of the common area, then slowly approached him with a friendly smile. “Holden, glad to see you back. You doing okay?”

“Hi, Bill. OPR went fine. I told them everything they wanted to hear. Don’t worry.”

Bill answered, “Hey, you weren’t doing me any favors. And I was asking how you were doing, you know, health wise.”

Holden’s gaze met Bill’s, and he looked slightly confused. Geez, Bill wondered, didn’t this kid ever get asked how he was doing?

“I’m okay, Bill. Ready to get back to work. Is Wendy here?” Now he seemed truly nervous. “In her office. I’ll let her know you’re in.” Holden just nodded.

When Holden left Wendy’s office, it was with a “Thanks, Dr. Carr” and a red face. Bill couldn’t wait to find out what she said to him.

He sat on the edge of Holden’s desk as Holden took his seat. “Everything peachy?”

Holden had a look of wonder and embarrassment on his face. “She said she had been worried about me, offered to help reduce my workload and thanked me for my hard work.”

Bill raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Holden said. “It was weird.”

Bill chuckled and returned to his office.

Holden remained desk bound for the rest of the morning, Bill noticed to his satisfaction. Then the mail arrived, among which was the latest card from Ed Kemper to Holden. Bill happened to glance over to check on Holden again and caught him staring down at the innocent-looking rectangular yellow envelope on his desk. Curious, Bill approached his partner, asking, “What you got there, kid?”

Holden replied, “It’s another card for me, from Vacaville. It’s Kemper, I think.” “You think?” Bill asked wryly. “Let’s take this into Wendy’s office, open it together, shall we?”

Holden looked a little pale. “Should we, Bill? I’m not sure Dr. Carr will care.” “Sure, she cares, Holden. Come on.”

Bill knocked on Wendy’s door. She quickly called out, “Come in” and the two men entered.

“What is it?” Wendy asked. Bill held up the envelope, saying, “This just came in the mail from Ed Kemper. The latest greeting card for Holden. Thought we’d open it up together this time.”

Bill noticed Holden looking confused and maybe embarrassed?

During Holden’s week of suspension, Bill had taken all the other Kemper cards down from his wall and tossed them in the trash, not only for Holden’s sake.

Holden sat down on the one guest chair in Wendy’s office.

Wendy gave Holden a considered look and said, “It’s up to Holden. It’s basically his property.”

Holden seemed to snap out of a daze at that and said, “No. I’m fine doing this publicly. It’s not like we’re having a… relationship.” A blush overtook the paleness on Holden’s face briefly, to Bill’s amusement.

Wendy crisply tore the envelope open and pulled out the card. On the front was a watercolor drawing of a bouquet of red roses. Wendy’s eyebrows raised at that and she opened the card. A lined page of writing folded three times fell out.

She unfolded the letter and began reading. “Dear Holden, I hope you’re doing well. I heard about your collapse in the hospital. I hope our embrace wasn’t the cause of your sudden ill health. I consider you a friend as well as a colleague in the behavioral science department and hope you realized that my theorizing on the possibilities inherent in our situation were merely that— a theory— and nothing I said should have been taken as a direct threat to you. I’m much too fond of you to want you gone from this world. I would like to see you again as soon as possible to continue our work. You are the only person I would continue this work with. Sincerely, your friend always, Ed.”

Silence reigned for a few seconds. Bill turned to Holden to check on his condition. The young man had a faraway look in his eyes, but panic was not evident on his face.  
Wendy spoke up. “Well, gentlemen, we seem to have been given a challenge.”  
Bill felt the beginnings of anger well up in his chest. “Wendy, you can’t think to send Holden back in with that… that psychopath? Kemper clearly has an unhealthy obsession with him. And Holden isn’t— has just been back to work for half a day. This is a fucking bad idea.”

Wendy responded to Bill, but kept her eyes on Holden, “I think that the matter is mostly up to Holden.”

Bill watched his partner as he suddenly returned from wherever his mind had wandered to and he said slowly, “What matter am I weighing in on?”

Wendy and Bill exchanged a concerned look. Wendy said, “Holden, Kemper is suggesting that he will only continue helping us if you’re involved. Directly. I agree with Bill that Kemper seems to have developed a somewhat puzzling infatuation with you, but…”

Holden’s eyes widened and he interrupted Wendy. “Infatuation? Because of the roses? No, he— he just feels comfortable with me.” Holden suddenly looked queasy.

Bill knelt down to be eye level with Holden. “You don’t have to do this. He’s just one subject out of unfortunately many.”

“But he’s our most cooperative and enthusiastic subject, Bill,” Holden said. “Actually, our only enthusiastic subject.”

“What exactly are you saying, Holden?” Wendy asked directly.

Bill added, “Think carefully about this.”

Bill watched as Holden seemed to shrink into himself a bit before he responded, “I can do it. I’m okay. I have to be okay. If I’m not, I might as well quit right now. I know I can’t continue behaving as I have over the last few months. I began empathizing so much with the killers that I lost all connection with anybody else. Particularly the victims. I don’t want to become like Kemper. I— I’m afraid of losing sight of everything human in the service of the end result. But if I want to continue here, I have to find another way. I don’t know if I can, but I have to try.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Wendy said. Bill felt ill at ease, glad that Holden was making an attempt to change, but worried about the specifics of the situation.

“I’ll be there with you, Holden.”

The two agents didn’t converse much on the car ride out to Vacaville. They had outlined their general ideas about where to take the discussion with Kemper, but a lot depended on the man’s responses.

As they went through the usual routine of turning in their guns and signing the releases, Bill checked on Holden visually. The young man looked neat, tidy, as usual, still a little pale and undernourished, but presentable. If he was nervous, he was hiding it well.

“You can still change your mind, Holden.”

The younger man looked at Bill, almost rolling his eyes, but with a small grin on his face. “Too late, Bill,” he said simply.

They walked into the Vacaville visitors’ cell, its grimy familiarity almost comforting, were it not for the large man at its center.

“Gentlemen! Good to see you again. Holden, hope you’re better. Bill, I’m surprised but not unhappy to see you here as well,” Kemper intoned with his usual placid tone.

“Hello, Ed. How are you?” Holden responded with a voice just short of friendly. “Thank you for the lovely card.” This said in a decidedly unfriendly tone.

Before Kemper could respond, Holden continued, “We were happy to hear that you were interested in continuing our project.”

Bill remained silent throughout this exchange and the agents took a seat across from Kemper at the long table.

Holden took a moment to organize his papers in front of him before beginning with the prepared questions. “When did you realize that…”

Kemper interrupted with, “Holden, how are you feeling? As I expressed in my card, I was quite concerned about your collapse after our last visit.”

Holden met his eyes. “I’m fine, Ed. My illness was unrelated to our conversation. I was simply overworked and run down. But I’m good now.”

Ed leaned forward and said, “Are you certain your condition wasn’t a consequence of what I said to you? I hadn’t meant to frighten you, but by all appearances, you took my musings on my previous victims too much to heart, and for that, I apologize.”

“We’re not here to talk about our last visit, Ed. If you’re serious about helping us, about continuing to contribute to our studies, you’ll have to concentrate on our questions,” Holden said.

Bill noticed a line of sweat on Holden’s forehead in the noticeably cool room. With some difficulty, he remained silent, though never losing eye contact with Kemper.

Kemper said, “I always thought our relationship was grounded in mutual respect, Holden. And honesty. And a sense of simpatico, perhaps, between us. I’ve never known you to sidestep a question. Well, at least not since our first session,” Kemper said. “When I asked why you were so tense, and you denied it. Are we back to the start, Holden? If so, I’m not sure I want to go through this again.”

“You’re right, Ed. I did lie then. I was scared and insecure. But I’m being honest with you now,” Holden said, maintaining eye contact.

“As Bill knows, I’ve not been well for a few months now,” he continued, while Ed moved his focus for the first time to Bill. “Not taking care of myself, isolating myself, making work the sole focus of my life. Things like that. Bottom line, I lost myself in the work.”

Ed leaned back and said, “Is that so? I knew our work was important, but your health should always come first.”

Holden swallowed, remembering the two times Kemper put his fingers gently against his throat and the one time Kemper embraced him.

“Ed, this project isn’t about me. That’s what I learned recently. It’s about you… and the others like you.”

“And you’re not like me, Holden?” Kemper asked earnestly.

“No, Ed, I’m not. I sometimes don’t understand people. I occasionally even hate people. But I could never hurt or kill anyone unless it was in defense of myself or someone else. And that’s why we need you. That’s why you’re so important. Not for myself, but for the project. Does that make sense?”

Kemper sat for a few seconds, calm expression unchanging.  
“You didn’t like my card?”

Holden blinked. Bill hazarded a glance at Holden.

“It was fine, Ed. Just fine. I appreciate your concern, but as I said earlier, I’m fine now.”

Kemper smiled. “So, you made some peace with the differences between you and I?  
Did your girlfriend help you with that? Or Bill? All the people who you feel a close connection to— they helped you as well?”

“I prefer not to talk about my personal life, Ed.” Holden could feel his pulse quicken. He felt the faintest hints of the panic attack he suffered from on his last visit.

Kemper leaned forward, anger appearing on his face for the first time. “Holden, I’m hurt. Truly hurt. The one element of our relationship which I find most unusual and truly sublime is your honesty. Even when you don’t tell me the entire story, I feel I know what you mean. You need to use me for your study, and I get to use you for your friendship in this gloomy place filled with intellectual cretins. But now I can’t read you. Is this how it’s going to be from here on out? You might as well be Mr. Tench over there.”

“I’ll be honest as I can, Ed,” Holden said, staring into the large man’s eyes. Bill quickly looked over to Holden, checking on him, but ready also to stop this crazy scene in an instant.

“I’m not the most social of persons, in the best of circumstances. I have few friends. But I’ve discovered that I have a great capacity for empathy, if I allow myself. And I did allow myself while interviewing you and the others, perhaps too much. But I forgot about something very important— the victims. They were robbed of their stories. But I can’t allow myself to forget them in my fascination with their killers.”

Holden stopped, feeling as if he’d spoken too much. Or maybe not enough.

“So you’re protecting the victims, after the fact?” Kemper smiled. Holden smiled back and replied, “I suppose you can say that.”

Holden felt sick, tired, slightly dizzy. He consciously tried to take slow, deep breaths.  
“Shall we get back to the questions, Ed?” Holden asked.

“Sure, Holden. Sure.” Kemper relaxed into his chair and smiled.

 


End file.
